A Guard's Tale
by Little But Fierce
Summary: Luna is a female guard in Whiterun. When a strange man ends up in the barracks, death and destruction follow. [Please note, I have added a few extra chapters to balance out the story. Note the last chapter has remained relatively the same.]
1. 1: The Prisoner

**1: The Prisoner**

* * *

"... and then Heric said..._'but how did the goat in there?'_..." Jordic finished his joke.

The other guards laughed loudly and tossed back some more mead.

I sighed, I would have laughed too but it was only funny the first 3 times.

"I'm going to check on the prisoners." I said to the others.

"Sure thing Luna," Jordic said waving his bottle and starting another joke I'd heard before.

I'd said prisoners, but really we only had one. He was a scruffy looking individual with mismatched armour and a furtive look. He'd swiped a sweet roll from the Bannered Mare and had protested that he'd thought his 10 gold room rent had covered dinner. I'd given him the benefit and checked with Hulda but she crossed her arms and shook her head, telling me he'd already started two fights. So I'd dragged him up to the barracks, the fellow grumbling all the way, especially about the indignity of being arrested by a female guard. I was beginning to dislike him already.

I'd checked all his gear into the lockbox and it was a fair haul. Caius... I beg pardon, _Commander_ (as he constantly reminds us) Caius had instituted a new rule that we make a list all items confiscated from prisoners. Mainly because he'd discovered some of the guards had taken to arresting Brenuin, the local drunk, just to 'impound' any mead he had.

I'd argued against it, not only because I thought it was pointless, but mainly as I knew I'd be the only one doing it. In this case it took almost an hour, 6 pieces of precious paper, half a bottle of ink and 2 quills. This fellow was a real packrat. One thing stood out; an heavy, odd-shaped piece of stone with strange writing carved on it and a design that looked like a map.

I'd searched around, found some more paper and charcoal and traced it out. It was definitely a map of Skyrim, that one mark was near Morthal, my home.

I now had the map tucked away in my cuirass and wandered over to chat to the prisoner. That's when I noticed the grate was up and he was gone.

I swore.


	2. 2: The Mare and the Map

**2: The Mare and the Map**

* * *

Commander Caius shouted at each of us in turn and then all over again when he discovered the prisoner's gear was _also_ gone. Jordic received special attention as he'd had to admit he'd searched the prisoner and must have missed a lock-pick. We'd seen the scratches on the grate's lock and realised this was how the prisoner had made his escape.

It was unfortunate, as searching prisoners was Jordic's one talent. I hated to think where the prisoner had hidden the pick, especially as we'd taken all his clothing and left him only with some ragged robes. And to be fair, none of us would have wanted to look _there_. Cauis finally dismissed us with an angry grunt and went off to write his report.

Luckily my shift was over so I got to escape the gloomy mood that had descended over the guards. I took off my cuirass and swapped my leather boots for more comfortable fur shoes, packing everything neatly into my barracks chest. I put my helmet carefully on top of the chest. I'd been complaining about the fit. The helm wasn't designed for a short female Nord and kept slipping over my eyes. I'd tried stuffing it with tundra cotton, but that just resulted in a delicate fall of snowy fluff every time I took it off and you can imagine the fun Jordic had with that.

So I'd taken it to Adrienne, the blacksmith and she'd fashioned some soft leather padding _stuffed_ with the cotton, which worked much better. I patted it affectionately. It may not be perfect but I was still proud to wear it.

It was well dark by the time I headed out of the barracks, along the path behind the Mare and I was glad to see little Lucia no longer camped out behind the Inn. I'd spoken to Danica and she'd promised to find her a more comfortable spot in the temple. A cold dark piece of earth was no place for a child to sleep before her time.

I'd swapped the map to my pants pocket, intending to have a proper look at it over some ale and a baked potato. When I'd joined the Whiterun guard, I'd thought the barracks far too conveniently located right next to an _Inn_, expecting it to be overly patronised by my colleagues, but these days they hardly ever went in.

It wasn't the food, drink or entertainment that put them off. It was talks-through-his-tankard Sinmir constantly going on about what a poor job we did, which unsurprisingly always ended in a brawl. And the Commander didn't like it if a guard came on watch with blood on his cuirass, no matter who's it was. So he'd banned us from going there to eat or drink while in uniform. And considering some of them lived in their cuirasses, well they just ended up turning the barracks into their own little tavern. Which also gave me a break from their company whenever I visited the Mare.

Sinmir was always quiet when I did, as according to Ulberth, he has a mammoth-sized crush on me; one destined to be sadly unrequited. So whenever I'd come in he'd blush red as a snowberry and move to the farthest seat he could find. And if you've been in the Mare, you'll know it ain't big and he'd end up by Uthgerd. I'd imagine him complaining about the guard and her complaining about the Companions and figure they were Mara-made for each other if only they could see it.

I came round into the square and gave a brief wave to Hrodgar. He stood on watch, motionless as always between Belethor's Shop and Arcadia's, and nodded slightly. The other guards dismissed Roddy as he always stood in just that one spot, still as a guardian stone. They joked about how he was likely asleep, and one day they'd stick a bucket on his head to prove it. But I knew he had eyes in the back of his helm, friends in barrow-low places and missed nothing. He also liked to secretly switch with Jon the Red (not to be confused with Jon the Black, named as to the colour of their hair) who was the same build as Roddy, and bunked down by the gate. The guards up at my barracks hadn't worked _that_ one out yet.

I walked into the Mare and Mikael was raucously well into Ragnar the Red. He swears he trained at the Bard's college, but he only seems to know two songs, so I'm not sure I believe it. He'd tried it on once, and only once as I took his sensitive parts in a firm grip, (not the pleasant kind) and asked him how he'd like to share a cell with a dead body for a couple of days. And he has behaved like the gentleman he's not ever since.

The Inn was full as a bandit's box and the only free seat was next to Ysolda. I smiled politely and sat down. She smiled politely back. I didn't know her well and though most talked kindly of her, I'd never warmed to the young woman. And it wasn't because she was so friendly with the cats who camped down by the bottom gate. I had nothing against them - they didn't bother me and I didn't bother them. No, there was just something odd about her. Most days she wandered aimlessly around the marketplace chatting to the merchants. Maybe she was just poor and desperate but I felt like she was one skooma slug away from a mad rampage.

I didn't want to get the map out in front of her so I just sat and listened to the music. Saadia came over and was her usual brusque self and looked tired. I gave her my order.

She'd admitted to me once, on a near empty night in the Inn that she didn't sleep well, and had troubling things on her mind. I'd tried to press her, but she'd bustled off when Hulda had called her to clean up some mess. I didn't know her background, but she had a scar on her face uglier than a skeever's smile and I wondered how she'd come by it.

As I was now just about the only guard who frequented the place, Hulda insisted on giving me free food. I tried to pay her once but she reckoned I needed to hang on to the pittance I was likely paid and looked skinny as a spriggan anyway. Between her and Saadia they are pretty good cooks, so I'd be a fool to say no.

I could feel the folded paper through my pocket and was itching to have a good look at it. So I skulled my ale and quickly ate my Eider topped potatoes. The whole Inn was now singing along to _The Age of Aggression_ and the noise was abysmal. Olfrid was closest to me, waving his empty tankard about and singing something else entirely, the only words I could make out were 'maid' and what sounded like 'musty'.

I gave my plate a last wipe and slipped out the door, narrowly avoiding getting clobbered by Olfrid.

The night was a bright one. A moon hung large and full above the town, though I couldn't tell you which one. I still couldn't tell them apart, a fact my brother had continually teased me about considering my name. I smiled at the thought of Benor and wondered what he was doing right now back in Morthal. Probably hanging around in the guardhouse, hoping they'd give him a job. I'd tried to get him to come with me and join the Whiterun guard, but he was determinedly loyal.

The air outside was cool and fresh; though after my childhood some nights still felt warm in Whiterun. Not that I missed my home town's weather, especially the thick grey fog slipping in from the swamp. As a child I'd had nightmares of vampires floating up out of the mist, coming to bite me. Luckily I'd grown out of that, though the thought still gave me a shiver.

I was headed to a spot outside , up on the ramparts above the bottom gate. On a good clear night, you could look out over the roll of the plain, past the stables, past the farms and the Western watchtower, and I fancied you could count the toes on a giant by the light of their fire at Sleeping Tree Camp. It was one of my favourite places to sit and think late of an evening. Tonight the braziers were stacked high, the moon bright and the sky clear, so I reckoned it would be the perfect place to check out the map.

"Watch the skies, Luna," Lorhic said gravelly. He was on duty inside the top gate and his mood was usually more jovial. His jokes about sweet rolls and enchanting swords didn't bear repeating, but his pranks with cheese wheels and pitchforks were legendary - hence his nickname Loki. But the truth was even _he_ was a bit nervy about the possibility of dragons coming back.

"Not going far Loki, and don't worry, on a night like this I bet I could see the Greybeards rinsing their robes, never mind a hulking great dragon flying across the sky." He muttered under his helmet. "And if I see even a hawk's _shadow_ I will be back in here faster than you can say 'Hail Sithis.'" I winked and he chuckled opening the gate for me.

The twins were guarding the other side and giggling as usual, so I ignored them and clambered over the wide, worn stones to my spot. I sat down cross-legged and fetched the map out of my pocket. I tilted it up towards the bright moon. The charcoal was a little smudged but I could make out many little marks all across what I assumed was Skyrim. From the Reach to the Rift. Exactly what was marked I had no idea. All I could tell was there were too many for them to be guardian stones. And unless I planned to leave Whiterun and traverse the entire province, I couldn't see how I was ever going to know.


	3. 3: The Prisoner Returns

**3: The Prisoner Returns**

* * *

"You're joking." I said to Heric.

I was in Belethor's shop trying to get the merchant to talk about Skooma manufacture in the 'Run. Caius had declared a crack down on the drug and was on a mission to 'clean-up' the town. The rest of us hadn't even _known_ there was a drug problem in Whiterun. I mean really, it wasn't like we were Riften.

Caius was convinced the Cats were involved but needed firm evidence in order to raid them the next time the caravan came. Apparently the Jarl had insisted he could only proceed with documented proof, of the pages and pages kind. Caius was a well-known Cat-hater and there were rumours he'd even tried to pay the Companions to drive them out of the 'Run - but you didn't hear that from me.

Heric had been on Draggers duty (as we called Dragonsreach – though not within the Jarl's hearing) and got to listen in to Balgruuf carving Caius a new Briar's heart - as Heric put it. It seemed the Jarl felt with the Civil War at a delicate stage, Helgen being destroyed and talk of the Dawnguard reforming; a skooma problem was the last thing on his mind. In fact he'd said very loudly he'd be happy to _have_ a skooma problem if that was the _**only**_ thing he had to worry about. As Heric told it, Caius had scuttled out of there faster than an angry mudcrab. But not before he got the Jarl to approve his investigation, with terms.

So I'd been sent to interview Belly. Now, even the draugr up at Bleak Falls know if Belly had the location of Sovngarde itself he wouldn't spill if his life depended on it, which it would of course, but you get my point. He might sell you his sister, his brother, his wife and his children (if he had any) but he was no snitch. And the man could talk the skin off a salmon so currently I was in possession of a not so new clothes iron which I didn't need and had purchased at an apparently bargain price. I blamed Caius and decided he'd be getting it for his next cake-day, but with my luck he'd probably like it. So you couldn't say I'd come away empty-handed, but I would be reporting that Belly knew nothing.

Heric had burst in half-way between Belly trying to foist another 'treasure' on me, and me trying to leave the shop. Sigurd was sweeping right in front of the door which had prevented me from leaving earlier, (which I'd begun to wonder was deliberate) so it was a blessing, especially as he fell over the boy on the way in. I pulled Heric up and dragged him outside as the shop boy untangled himself from his broom and before Belly was able to burden me with more junk. I hauled Heric over to Roddy, or was it Jon, no matter.

"Roddy, have you heard this?" his helmet nodded slightly.

"It's true," Heric said. "That escaped prisoner, you know the one Jordic nicknamed 'Smelly Pants' on account of the amount of lavender you Luna, fetched out of his pockets, well he turned up bold as a bare-arsed bandit and walked straight up to the gate, where the twins nabbed him, account of his bounty still being active, you know over that sweet roll thing in the inn, and also the fighting ..."

"The point, Heric." Roddy growled. Now I definitely knew it was Roddy. I'd know that growl anywhere. Roddy could growl in a cave full of Snow-Bears and they'd run for their furry little lives, I tell you.

"All right, all right. He paid the fine. Jordic searched him. No stolen goods, though how you'd know, I don't know, I swear he had more stuff on him than the last time, Luna, you'd be glad you didn't have to..."

Roddy rumbled.

Heric continued "... and quick as you like he headed straight back to Draggers to see the Jarl."

"The Jarl?" I said.

"Yes. The Jarl. You know, Balgruuf."

"I know the Jarl Heric."

"Course you do. And Farengar was all excited too."

"Farengar?"

"Yes. The Court Wizard. You know. **Farengar**." Heric stated.

"I know Farengar, Heric."

"Why'd you ask then?"

"Heric!" I was about to smack his helmet, but at that moment we were all distracted by a guard sprinting through the marketplace and up the steps to the Wind District, two at a time. Ysolda nearly went flying and a cheese wheel bounced off Carlotta's stall.

"That looked like..." Heric said.

"Jon the Black," Roddy interrupted.

"What's going on?" I said.

We debated a moment and I went down to the gate from where the guard had come, thinking if Loki was on duty he'd know what was happening, and Heric headed back up to Dragonsreach to listen out up there.

Jon the Red was on duty and was agitated to say the least. He had his steel sword out, the one his mother had sent him from Solitude, the one she'd had engraved with his name and he got Adrienne to personally sharpen every week.

"Jon what's going on? We saw Jon – the other Jon, rabbitting it up to Daggers like he had a flame atronach torching his heels."

"Dragons, Luna." He said, "There's a Dragon down at the Western, and I'm not allowed to leave my Daedra-cursed post."

My mouth went dry. A dragon at Helgen was one thing, and it had all sounded a bit farfetched, what with the whole story about Ulfric and the execution and the dragon just flying off after destroying the town. The three guards Irileth had sent up to Riverwood hadn't returned yet so we'd no reliable account from anyone we knew. In truth we'd only half believed it, or rather _half-hoped_ it wasn't true.

None of us had fought, or even yet _seen_ a dragon, and if it really had taken out a whole town, well the Divines only knew what it could do to the Western Watchtower.

"Who is on duty out there?" I said to Jon. The Western was on the gate barracks roster this week.

"Um, Lorhic, Hroki, Tor ... "

"I'm going down there." I went to leave but Jon grabbed me, "No, Luna, don't. Not without orders. Caius would..."

"Cauis can kiss skeever butt." I said.

Before I could wrestle away from him, we heard running and looked up towards Draggers.

Irileth was running towards us with a small group of Dragonsreach guards and even more shocking that funny little prisoner was in the lead, carrying a glowing greatsword.

Irileth and the guards stopped at the barracks but the prisoner flashed past us with a happy grin and ran on through the gate. The guards looked reluctant and Irileth was giving them a rousing 'Let's go kill us a Dragon' speech.

I struggled in Jon's grip but he held me firm, he was as strong as Roddy too.

"No, Luna." He whispered.

"But Loki. What about Loki."

"Loki can take care of himself."

Irileth had worked up the guards and they were finally heading through the gate.

"At least to the ramparts," I pleaded to Jon, "I have to see it."

"Okay, if you promise, you swear to Kynareth, no further. And if it comes this way, you come back in and defend the city. _That's_ your job." Jon said.

"Okay, okay. I swear, " and he let me go.

I sped past the twins who were standing alert with iron swords at the ready and Whiterun shields raised. They were a silly pair but no-one could beat them on slash and bash.

I ran to my spot and looked towards the tower. The day was sunny and warm. It was a very pretty day in the 'Run, bunny tail white tufts of clouds skipping across the heart-breakingly blue sky. I could see soft grey smoke wafting lazily up from the direction of the tower. Something had set it on fire. I couldn't see anything flying around, but then I wasn't really sure what I was even looking for, a giant skeever with wings? A flying Argonian breathing fire? I saw Irileth and her band disappear around a bend in the road.

And then, a few moments later, a shadow, a swooping, dark, dangerous and definitely dragon-shaped shadow was circling the Western Watchtower. I automatically pulled out my sword, as useless as it was so far away.

There was a dragon, a real live, fire-breathing dragon, it could be nothing else. I heard a distant roar and saw the bright torrent of fire blasting from its mouth. I imagined I could feel the searing heat.

I asked myself, how did you fight that? And how could you possibly win, and what... what if there was more than one.


	4. 4: The Heroic Dead

**4: The Heroic Dead**

* * *

I lay on my bunk not sleeping. It was late and dawn was likely closer than dusk. I could hear the slow breathing of the other guards along with Heric's usual melodic snoring. I generally hated sleeping in the barracks. I didn't mind the sharing, but I often felt with the vast hall and quarters of Jorrvaskr bearing down upon us, one day while we slept we'd all be silently crushed. I liked to sleep where I could see the sky, the stars, the moons and the world outside.

When I was small, and my nightmares kept me from sleep, my father had fashioned a little aerie on the top of our house. He nailed a few flat boards outside the upstairs window on top of the thatch, with a sturdy rail all around. Benny and I would wrap ourselves in our favourite furs and curl up on the warm wood. Once it was fully dark, Father would lean out, resting his arms on the sill and tell us the tales of the stars. The stories of the 3 Guardians and how the Serpent chased the others around the sky. He'd tell me, high up there with my brother beside me, where if I looked hard I could see all the way to Solitude, how the vampires _couldn't_ reach me and the Divines would protect us always. He would tell us how I had been born under the Steed Star and Benny, the Warrior. But my favourite story was always the Serpent as it went its own way and followed its own path. I really wished I could see it now, to look up into the black and have the familiar comfort of searching the sky for it.

Loki had survived the attack on the tower with only a few burns and slightly singed hair. He was resting in the temple now and his wounds would heal quickly. I wasn't so sure about his spirit as he had not spoken since he'd returned. Cauis had taken him off the roster.

Hroki and Tor were dead, along with two other guards.

I knew this as the Commander had sent me down to the tower with Anders and Heric to recover the bodies. We borrowed a cart from Severio's farm, for transport.

When we got there we stopped, caught by the sight of the dragon's enormous skeleton. Bare bones white and stripped, spread across the scorched ground. I had seen the skull of the dragon above the throne at Dragonsreach many times, but this took my breath and all my words from me. It was as big as a mammoth and patches of tundra around it were still smoking.

As we discovered were the two burnt bodies. We weren't even sure who they were. I cannot describe the smell except to say it was gut-wrenching. Even now with lavender tucked into my clothes and bedding I am afraid it will never leave me.

We found Tor's body lying peacefully on the cobbles. He was recognisable at least, intact, his helmet still on covering his face. There was very little blood but every bone in his body was broken. I didn't want to imagine how the Dragon must have lifted him up so gently, barely breaking his skin before releasing him high in the sky to fall and slam fataly into the ground, sending him to Sovngarde.

One body was missing entirely.

Heric and I had walked back to the stables to fetch some buckets and water so we could dowse the hot bodies for removal.

"Luna, did you see how big that thing was?" said Heric.

"Yes."

"They killed it."

"Yes they did."

"Not before it killed some of us."

"No."

"Not sure I want to go out hunting dragons, Luna."

"Me neither, Heric."

After we dowsed the bodies and waited for the steam to subside, we wrapped them in linen and put them on the cart. Heric lost it when a foot fell off one of the corpses and we had to retrieve it from the road. We'd tried not to laugh, we really did, but we couldn't help ourselves, and at least it stopped the tears from coming.

After we left them in Anders care at the Hall, Caius sent me to catalogue the dead guard's belongings. Tor was to be interred in his uniform, the other two would be wrapped and laid out, without. Anders had said he would lay them together as they had died. Anders was sweet and practical as we knew who they were, but not which was which.

Any spare armour or weapons would be reissued. Personal belongings would be packed up and sent back to their kin. Caius wrote the letters that would inform them of their deaths. They would go out with a courier on the morrow along with the requisite 50 gold the Jarl sent to relatives of any guard who died defending the city. I was very glad the task had not been mine.

It had been bad enough packing up their possessions. Hroki had had so little, but seemed to really like cheese – I found 3 wheels under his bunk. I dusted them off and left them in the barracks, hopefully the others would honour him in the eating. Amongst Tor's books and clothing, my heart near broke when I found a half-written love poem. He'd apparently abandoned it when he failed to find a word to rhyme with Carlotta. I knew not what to do with it.

The sad knowledge of its existence weighed heavy on me, along with the more unsettling knowledge that we now had a Dragonborn in our midst. I couldn't decide if I should be joyful or afraid. I didn't know if it was the beginning of something, or the end.


	5. 5: The Map and the Mastermind

**5: The Map and the Mastermind**

* * *

I sat with Roddy, Heric and Loki around a small table at the back of the Drunken Huntsman. It was near empty as usual. Most Whiterun residents forgot there was another tavern in town and I knew none of the guards patronised it. There was some debate as to why, some said it was because Elrindir was a Bosmer. This seemed unlikely as the guards I knew would call a bandit brother if he had ale to sell. Roddy said it was the presence of the upstairs tenant, which made much more sense considering Nazeem's line in condescending comments. I reckoned it was the Dark Elf mercenary in the corner, sitting alone, back to the wall, regarding everyone who walked in with a dungeon-dark stare. I'm sure Jenassa could have killed the dragon herself just with that look. I'd once walked into the Hunstman to overhear her say _death was her art_; and turned around and walked right back out.

Today she was missing from her post. Elrindir had reported she had packed up and left with the Dragonborn, which _definitely_ improved the atmosphere.

Roddy was sitting with his arms folded his own back against the wall and Loki was staring at him like a skeever on skooma. He'd never seen Roddy away from his post, and never ever without his helmet. And it was a sight to see as Roddy was as fair as the Morning Star, with hair like polished dwarven plate and eyes bluer than a Dartwing. Even his current frown just made him look moodily romantic.

"Loki – stop staring." I whispered, nudging him gently. Loki still wasn't talking but now at least he was responsive.

Heric said "So Bally has given permission for the DB to buy Breezehome and given 'Fancy Pants' Proventus 5000 gold for it?" basically repeating what I had just said.

"Yes," I said lifting my goblet of wine. "...and don't call the Jarl 'Bally', Heric."

"OK, Luna, but the way he sits... anyway, I don't understand," he lowered his voice, "why would Ball..., erm, Jarl Balgruuf let the Dark Brotherhood buy a home in the 'Run?"

I nearly choked on my drink and the other two looked horrified at Heric.

"Not the Dark Brotherhood, Heric. The Dragon Born, D-B, remember when we said we'd call him that?" I shook my head, "Oh never mind."

"OH!" he said and chuckled, "DB, Dragon – Born. Not Dark - Brotherhood. Ha ha. That's clever. Better not make that mistake again hey?" he said winking and chugging some more mead.

Roddy looked up the ceiling, muttering something about brains and Oblivion.

As the Draggers guards told it, just after the dragon died, the escaped prisoner had absorbed some kind of power from it. And when everyone had heard (and felt) the subsequent shout from the Greybeards it sealed the fact he was the legendary Dragonborn. And as gossip moves faster through the Guards than Horker through a Hargraven, it was all they were talking about. Most were in awe, especially after the survivors described the sight of the dragon's soul entering the man, there was pretty glowing lights apparently. Oh and he could also shout, really loud.

And then we heard, while some of us were out dealing with smoking dead bodies, the Jarl had bestowed the prisoner with _**Thane**_ status, property rights, and the bloody Axe of Whiterun, not that it had actual blood on it but none of it sat well with me.

This I knew, he was an escaped prisoner who had bizarrely returned, and he had helped with killing the dragon. And four of our own were dead. 'Absorbing' souls sounded on the Daedra side of the ledger to me.

I pulled out the map and smoothed it out on the table. I'd had an opportunity to ink it up so the marks and lines stood out. I anchored it with a hefty piece of cheese.

"This is what I was telling you about. This is a copy of the map from the lump of stone the DB that is Dragonborn," I looked at Heric," had when he was locked up."

The men lent closer, and I noticed not only did Roddy look great, but he smelt great too, a mix of lavender, juniper and was that honey? I bit my lip trying not to laugh, imagining him not only guarding Arcadia's but shopping there too and happily browsing for lotions and potions, in helmet and cuirass. I wondered if she gave him a discount. He gave me a sharp look and I looked innocently down at the map.

"What is it?" Loki said softly and we all tried not to look surprised.

"I don't know," I said smiling, "I'm pretty sure it is a map of Skyrim with something marked on it and I think it has something to do with the dragons coming back."

They looked at it again closely, considering.

Minutes passed.

"It's not the guardian stones," I said, "There are too many marks."

"Mmmm." Roddy murmured, nodding.

Loki turned it a little, obviously thinking hard.

Heric spoke, "It's the Dragonstone of Legend, with Dragon Burial sites marked all across Skyrim, from the snow capped Velothi Mountains to the rocky Druadach peaks. It came from the dangerous depths of Bleak Falls Barrow, on the hills above Riverwood." He stated, then belched loudly, "Anyone want some more mead, my shout. Shout. Ha ha. Maybe I'm the Dragonborn. Ha ha."

Shocked at the statement we stared at him and obviously thinking we didn't want more drink, he turned towards the bar. I managed to grab his cuirass and pull him back down in his seat.

"Heric! By all the Gods! What are you talking about?" I said.

"I heard Farengar going on about it up in Draggers." He lowered his voice again, "It's his new best friend. He sleeps with it you know. Hee hee. I don't know, I could think of a few better things to sleep with in the 'Run eh? Ha ha." He nudged me and winked.

Roddy's face was in his hands, and Loki was smiling widely.

I said. "Heric, you remember when I told you about this and... and... we um... oh well, never mind. Go bring us another round, and a sweet roll, I really need a sweet roll."


	6. 6: On a Quest

**6: On a Quest**

* * *

I had the day off. Caius had almost said no, but I held my ground and politely mentioned I had not had a day off since well, I hadn't had a day off. He opened his mouth once or twice as if he really wanted to say no, but in the end he relented and even said "Have a nice time."

After that I stripped off my uniform, threw on an old shirt and pants, tested my steel dagger, filled a backpack with some food and happily went out in search of a Dragon Burial Mound.

I tried to slip past Roddy going the back way around Arcadia's and Belly's but even with that damn helm and his back towards me, he managed to say, "Hurmph," as I passed, loudly enough so I knew it was directed at me. In Roddy speak that meant "Don't come crying to me when you get attacked by bandits, giants, mammoths wolves and skeevers on your fool's errand." And I knew that was what he meant because that was exactly what he had said to me when I proposed my quest at a back table in the Mare the night before.

It was an unusually quiet night. Even Sinmir was nowhere to be seen which shocked us both as he never left the Mare and Uthgerd was also strangely absent. I had smiled imagining them somewhere together and wondered exactly how long it took to get all that steel armour off, and if Sinmir wore his iron helmet...

"Why are you smiling?" Roddy interrupted my thoughts, "It's a stupid idea, especially on your own."

"So you're not coming with me?" I said trying to decide if I wanted more salmon or a venison chop. When Hulda had seen the two of us take our seats she had sent Saadia over with platefuls of free food. I'd found out she was Tor's cousin and had been particularly touched with the care we had taken of all the bodies we'd brought back from the Dragon attack on the Western.

"No. I can't see Caius giving us _both_ time off. I imagine it was hard enough for him to say yes to you." Roddy picked at his salmon steak. "And imagine what would happen if Joric took my post. Last time he did that he spent most of the time chatting up Ysolda and Carlotta _and_ trying to get free venison out of Anoriath. Cauis had a list of complaints as long as a Hagraven's arm. It took Joric half a day to go around and apologise to everyone."

"Which resulted in another batch of complaints as I recall. Couldn't Jon the Black do it?"

"Jon has been posted up to Dragonsreach." His eyes darkened and he pushed his plate away.

The Dragon had killed two Dragonsreach guards and Jon had been posted as one replacement. I pushed my own plate away as the image of the scorched bodies came back to me.

"It's a bad idea Luna, what if the Dragon comes back?"

There was no answer to that. I could run fast, but I doubted I could outrun a Dragon. It had taken half a dozen guards _and_ the Dragonborn to bring down the last one. He'd sold some of its bones to Belethor, who had tried to display them on his counter, but every time he left and came back into the shop they were all over the floor, so he had declared them possessed and gave them away to Adrienne. After she got over the shock of receiving something free from Belly she promised to make something nice for him out of them. He said not to bother as he was happy to see the back of them.

I knew Roddy was right, but that Dragon Map was burning a hole in pocket like a dose of fire salts.

So here I was early in the morning trying to sneak past Roddy and failing. So I stood up, tried to look capable and headed out of Whiterun.

It had looked to be a beautiful day when I rose but as is the way in the 'Run about when I got to the Western it started to rain. I pulled on an old mages hood I had in the knapsack and it did a good job of protecting my head, though the rest of me was getting a bit damp. I increased my walk to a jog and hoped the rain would soon stop.

It did, and then the fog rolled in. It looked like Kyne didn't much approve of my quest either.

I gave the guards at the Western a wave as I passed, what I could see of them through the mist, and Heric was there and called out.

"Watch out for Giants Luna, and Mammoths and Bandits and Wolves and Skeevers..."

I yelled back, "Yes, I know and I am sure there are draugr, roaming skeletons, thieves and don't forget the possibility of a DRAGON!" I was getting fed up with the lack of encouragement and stomped off annoyed.

But Heric was right, all those things were on the plain and running around here alone really was just asking for trouble. I was not the Dragonborn, and not even an Adventurer.

Despite the misgivings that were beginning to seep in, (I found myself looking out for skeletons – so you can see how my imagination was running wild) I couldn't go back now, without at least a tale to tell.

Fort Greymoor loomed large and I well knew it was populated with bandits. It had surprised me on my arrival to Whiterun that they lived there so close to the city. Then I discovered that they didn't actually rob anybody. They'd long ago come to an agreement with Balgruuf that they would leave Whiterun residents alone (especially the carriage) if they could stay in the Fort unmolested. All I knew it was vaguely something to do with the absent _Mrs_ Jarl Balgruuf, but even Heric who'd been a Whiterun Guard longer than anyone, and knew where all the skeletons were buried, would say no more.

Even so I ran past as fast as I could and I got a bit of bandit talk thrown at me and the odd arrow sent my way. I think it was mostly for show as the shots were way off. I told them to watch it as I was a guard and one of them even apologised, much to my surprise. What next, friendly, talking Dragons?

I headed towards the bridge as the mist cleared and I noticed a group of Revellers further along the road. I knew they did a nice line in Charmed amulets in exchange for some mead, but it turned out after a while they left a nasty rash on your neck. I hated to think what kind of soul they were enchanted with, probably a skeever, that'd make me itch for sure.

According to my map I now had to head off down along the river. So I left the path and made my way. And then I heard a howl.


	7. 7: The Quest Continues

**7: The Quest Continues**

* * *

The three wolves regarded me hungrily, so I dug around in my pack for the venison chops I'd taken with me from dinner at the Mare. I threw them down on the ground and they happily trotted over and scoffed the lot. I walked past and one started following me, whining. I tried unsuccessfully to shoo it away. I was glad it wasn't a mammoth, I had no idea what they ate, other than well, possibly everything, including the odd Whiterun Guard.

Actually Balgruuf had not only banned us from harassing the bandits at Greymoor, he had also insisted we leave the Giants and Mammoths alone. The story went he had a soft spot for them as a young man travelling from Rorikstead he had been set upon by some Bandit Marauders, (as opposed to plain Bandits, like at Greymoor – don't ask me the difference) and a wandering Giant had come to his aid, sending them skyward with one whack from their club. He'd not been best pleased when he'd heard the Companions had recently killed one at Severio's farm. We all knew they liked to come and talk to the cow there, but the Companion's were a law unto themselves and even Bal-gruuf had trouble controlling them. The Companion's kind of disturbed me, there was something very strange about them. They wern't much trouble to us guards, but I swear I hear howling up above us in Jorrvaskr when I was in the barracks late at night. And Farkas sometimes just follows me around until I send him off home. Frankly I'm happy when they are out hunting.

The wolf had given up by now and had decided to take on a Mudcrab feeding in the river, I wished him luck as I heard a yelp and he sensibly gave up and ran away. I jogged on and hopped over a creek. Then I noticed the Giant and two Mammoths. I'm not sure if I was scared or annoyed that so far I'd met all the things Roddy and Heric had warned me about, oh yes, except for the Skeevers.

I kept my distance and trotted past, checking the little map as I went. I was beginning to think it really was a fool's errand and there would be nothing to see but trees and grass at the end of it. I noticed a couple more wolves on the way, but they seemed as disinterested as I was.

I crested a rise about to give up when I saw it; a strange round bowl of stone, like a half buried barrow. It was filled with dirt and looked, well, a bit boring. I walked slowly up to it wondering if this was it and noticed two bandits standing just beyond. One was brandishing a steel sword, the other a battleaxe and I didn't think they were for show as one called out, "You'll be sorry!"


	8. 8: Telling Tales

**8: Telling Tales**

* * *

"Mara's mercy, Luna, what did you do next?" Heric was sitting wrapt as I told my tale.

The night was warm so our little band of four had wandered down outside to the bottom gate and sat up on the worn stones, feet dangling looking out over the plain.

Roddy had frowned when I had come back into town, dishevelled and bleeding. And he'd not stopped frowning since I'd cleaned up my (minor) wound, washed and changed my clothes. Even the ale we'd brought with us had failed to improve his mood.

I'd so far told them everything that had happened on my little quest, up to the part where I had come across the Bandits, and they weren't disinterested ones like at Greymoor. They had attacked me on sight, obviously not realising I was a guard with more than the average citizen's skills. I would like to have said I had subdued, arrested and brought them back to our jail, but I'd not had much choice and they now both lay dead beside the dragon mound I'd gone looking for. And I would have mourned even them and their foolishness had I not come across a Breton woman it seems they had recently robbed and killed. I reunited her with her stolen necklace and took a little time to sit with her and pray that her Gods were welcoming her spirit.

I had advised Caius on my return and after I told him about the Bandits, Giants, Mammoths and Wolves, he didn't look too keen to send anyone to bury her properly. I assured him I'd not seen any Skeever's but it failed to sway him. We had no idea who she was so we couldn't even let her kin know of her demise. I was happy that at least I had left her with a prayer. I tried not to think about how the wildlife would treat her.

"You were lucky, Luna." Loki said supping his ale.

Roddy growled in what I assumed was assent. At least now he was making noises, if not words, so there was improvement.

"Could've brought us back some Mammoth Cheese, I love a bit of Mammoth Cheese." Heric said.

We all turned to stare at him.

"Heric, if you fancy some Mammoth Cheese, you can go get it yourself." I said and pointed to Bleakwind Basin, "And watch out for the Giants, Mammoths, Bandits, Wolves, Mudcrabs and possibly Skeevers." Everyone laughed, "Or, you could just go and get us some more ale."


	9. 9: The Wind Over Whiterun

**9: The Wind Over Whiterun**

* * *

A few nights later I stood on the drawbridge looking out over the Whiterun plain. A fine crisp breeze was coming in from the northwest. I could see it beginning life on the icy crests of the Sea of Ghosts travelling around the rocks of Solitude Point over the Morthal marshes gathering speed and howling through the cavern of Cold Rock Pass scouring the tundra scooping up over the worn stone walls and flowing into the 'Run's districts. Touching all of the places and all of the people I loved in Skyrim.

The Dragonborn had long left Whiterun and rumours abounded. Some said he was setting up home with a Companion, a dog and a dozen orphans in Falkreath, others said that he'd joined the Dawnguard. One story even had him battling ash spawn in Solstheim. And then there were the darker tales, talk of the Thieves Guild, the Dark Brotherhood and even Daedra worship.

Jordic had made a bad joke about the DB joining the DB, and even I laughed.

Loki had more than successfully regained the powers of speech and even produced a legendary prank that involved Commander Caius, that clothes iron and an archery mannequin he'd managed to dress like the Jarl. It was so funny even the Commander forgave him.

Roddy had talked me out of tracking down more dragon burial sites, or joining the Dawnguard or becoming a Skryim bounty hunter to clear out the bandits on the plain. He said I was a Whiterun Guard and I belonged here defending the city. Even if all it meant was keeping our sorry lot of comrades from drinking too much mead, eating too much cheese and telling too many jokes about knees and arrows.

And he was right, I was a Whiterun Guard, and I loved my job. I loved my barrack mates and I loved my city.

I loved how the sweet smell of lavender caught the breeze on a summer night. I loved how Heric never failed to make us laugh whilst drinking us all under the table. I loved how Jon the Red had declared his love for Carlotta who had accepted him, much to everyone's surprise – including him.

I loved how the Skyforge glowed at night and you could see the light from every tower in the 'Run. I loved how Arcardia diagnosed you with non-existent ailments as soon as you walked in the door. I loved how Belly had recently managed to sell Nazeem a slightly used set of enchanted Dwarven Gauntlets – Zenithar only knew where Belly had got them, or what Nazeem would do with them!

I loved how Adrienne quietly loved Ulfberth and Jon secretly loved Olfina. This was my town and my people and I would protect them all until Sovngarde called.

No-one knew what the future held, for us or for Whiterun. There were rumours of a truce and rumours of a battle. We'd be ready and take what came. After all we'd killed a dragon once and we could do it again.

I pulled the creased parchment out of my pocket. I unfolded it and touched the words gently, it caught a little in the wind and a tiny flake of snow landed, blurring the ink. I tore it slowly into pieces and let them go. I watched as they fluttered down and burnt up in the brazier below. Little charred embers flared and floated into the sky. Tor's love would forever grace Aetherius.

I heard the gate open and the twins giggling.

"Luna!" It was Roddy off duty in tunic and pants. He had great legs and I smiled at the sight. "Are you coming for a drink? Sinmir has still abandoned the Mare and just about the whole guard is in there celebrating, singing The Dragonborn Comes. They've added some questionable lyrics and Olfrid just whacked Mikael on the head with his tankard which seems to have improved his singing. Come on, you don't want to miss it."

"On my way, love, on my way." I said, turned and walked back into Whiterun, my town.

* * *

The End.


End file.
